It hits me like a wall. That voice whispering in my head. There had been a hint of familiarity to it, but I ’didn’t want to acknowledge it when I am doing so well with Cynthia, spinning the web of lies.
Oh God.
The evil spirit I encountered when I was twelve at the Donnelly house. And again earlier today... It’s here now.
Somehow, it has stuck itself on to me! And now it’s coaching me? Helping me suck this poor girl in with a total bullshit story? Preying on her kindness, like a total jerk?
I finish in the washroom and don’t even look over at her as I race from the bar. This isn’t who I am. I’m not a liar. Maybe a few fibs to spare someone’s feelings but nothing conniving like this. I certainly would never knowingly use people in this way. It’s this thing in my head.
“Get out!” I tear at my hair, racing down the street like a crazed maniac.
But can I shake this thing that has somehow attached itself to me?
SEVEN
WHEN I GET HOME, I’m shaking from the run and the dread that this entity is inside me, manipulating me. Thank God, my roomie has gone to bed. I need to be alone to figure this out.
It had that girl eating out of my palm with its lies, directing me with vile whispers inside my head. If not for what happened earlier today and then seeing that dark shadow hovering over me in the bathroom mirror, I might have gone along with it. How had it done this? Is this the “‘third time’s the charm”‘ it warned me about?
But more important for now is the need to find a way to get rid of it inside me. I want nothing to do with this thing, ever. I grab my laptop and then hunker down onto the bed to research this. Surely the internet will help me.
I cruise the sites that talk about demons and possession, but the cases all seem to be similar to what I’d seen when I watched ‘The Exorcist’. This isn’t what it’s like for me at all. This wraith isn’t twisting my head in a full circle or spewing vomited pea soup; it’s playing on my weakness, which is wanting to get laid.
Nothing noble about it, but I’m almost nineteen. What would you expect?
There are sites on cleansing with sage smudges and wearing protective crystals. Maybe I need to try that, even though it seems too simplistic to actually work.
Praying, getting a blessing from a priest? The only times I ever went to church were at Christmas and Easter. Somehow, I think an all-knowing God will recognize my self-serving sudden interest and laugh up his sleeve. What a hypocrite I would be.
Maybe my best bet is to ignore it. It whispers in my ear—so what? I don’t have to listen to it, do I? And it only showed up when I was trying to pick up that poor girl. I can control this. At least until I find how to banish it.
I set the laptop aside and then get up to brush my teeth. Avoiding glancing in the mirror I try to think of anything else than what happened at that house, meeting the demon again and... No! No. And no.
The lawyer and his second family—that’s it. What is going to be the upshot of that?
But the demon slithers in the dark corners of my mind, making my skin crawl. I spit the toothpaste again and again, gagging when I recall the feel of that thing’s tongue sliding over my lips. I cling to the edge of the sink to keep from staggering to the side.
This has to stop. But there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I need sleep. It’s been a day. I’ll figure all of this out tomorrow.
***
The hiss of running water followed by a bang niggle in my ears, but I tug the warm blanket higher wanting to fall back into the dream state. I roll over, tugging the extra pillow over my ears trying to get back to that peaceful bliss. But my mind surfaces, bubbling with thoughts that prevent a relapse.
It seems I just got to sleep and now it’s time to get up? One eye creaks open and there’s light sneaking in between the slats of the blinds on my window. Yanking the comforter higher there’s a draft on my lower back.
What the hell? I’m totally nude? Where are the T-shirt and PJ bottoms I put on before going to bed? The added warmth of my T-shirt and flannel pants are ingrained in my nightly ritual, so I know I put them on.
When I try to sit up a searing burn in my abdomen makes me flinch. I look down at my gut. Holy shit! Three fresh red welts run from my left nipple crossing my stomach to the hip bone on the other side.
The lines are tender, slightly raised and rough. What the hell? There’s even a smear of blood on the comforter from the cuts... like deep cat scratches.
Fragments of a dream pulse in my mind and I freeze. The redhead from the bar played a starring role in what could only be described as a triple X-rated porn flick. My heart pounds hard, and I don’t know whether it’s from the erotic images flooding my head or the horror that it might actually have been true. Was it? Why am I naked, and what’s with the cuts on my gut?
No. No. No.
I shake my head, glancing over at my laptop for confirmation. I ran out of that bar and came home alone. Plus, there’s got to be a record in my browsing history on the computer. I brushed my teeth, changed into my PJ pants and T-shirt and went to bed alone. I know I did.
My chin drops and I look at the angry welts crossing my stomach again. Shit! This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten three scratches like that! On my thigh when I was twelve, that thing marked me at the Donnelly house. And then encountering it again yesterday...
Oh my God. It was with me at the bar feeding lies to that girl and... last night. Somehow that thing was here in my room with me last night. I gag at the horror of the next image slinking through my brain. That thing and I had sex... wild monkey sex. It’s too disgusting to contemplate even for someone like me, a walking hormone. My skin itches threatening to crawl off and slink onto the floor. That sewage-filled she-monster violated my body in a horrid, intimate way.
My body shrinks, folding in, clutching the blankets like a shield and I shudder. I thought I could control this spirit by ignoring it. But it had come to me at night when I was asleep... or at least should have been asleep. If I were honest with myself, it had even exerted its influence in the bar with Cynthia, playing on my weakness. What the hell am I going to do?
At the tap on my door, I almost jump out of my skin.
“Adam? You okay, man?”
It’s only Doug, thank God. I get up and scoop the PJ bottoms from the floor, yanking them on before opening the door a crack. “Yeah. I’m fine. Why?”
He does a theatrical eye roll. “The noises man. I thought you were dying in here last night, with all the moaning and groaning. You sick or something?”
My cheeks flame but my brain scrambles for something plausible. “Yeah. I ate some super-hot buffalo wings last night. Note to self. Never again. Sorry it bothered you.”
“No problem. There’s medicine for acid reflux in the cabinet if you want it.” He’s already edging away down the hall.
I look around the room and see more evidence of down-and-dirty mayhem. The lampshade is skewed to the side, and the sheets are in a ball bunched at the bottom corner of the bed. There’s even a faint odor like a backed-up toilet. Yuck.
My gut clenches making me rush to the bathroom, barely making it before acrid bile spews from my mouth.
When I straighten, and move to the sink a dark shadow flits across the surface of the mirror above it. I jerk back staring after it. But as quick as it appeared there’s no trace of it now. Still, I’m filled with a lingering dread that it’s close, even though I can’t see it. And it left its mark on me. Again.
My hands dry-scrub my face tugging the skin down as I remember its words. “Three’s the charm”. Charm? For whom?
And as for that romp in my room last night, I’d join a Tibetan Monastery before I’d go through that again. I turn the shower on and slip my PJ’s off. It’s a long, long time, before I’m able to leave the hot spray.
Still shaking a little, when I get dressed for the day, my cell phone buzzes with a text. It’s Amy checking in, between classes. I put the phone down, no
t bothering to even read her message. It would be sacrilegious or something connecting with her after what happened last night. This thing taints me, and until I can figure out how to shake it, there’s no way I’d risk contaminating Amy. She’s way too good a person for that to happen.
EIGHT
“WHY ME?” I say out loud as I wait for the traffic light to change. Unlike in the bar last night, this fiend is strangely silent. “Did you wear yourself out messing me up, you sick worm!” I get a strange look from a young mother pushing a stroller and she speeds up as she passes. But what does that matter? If she knew why I’m muttering to myself, she’d run to get away from me.
‘Why not you is a better question, Adam.’
Its voice shocks me and I freeze. But it’s not finished.
‘You’re a perfect specimen to use. Especially with your talents. It’s going to be a wild ride, experiencing everything...the taste of chocolate, feeling people’s fear, their greed...’ A low chuckle echoes in my mind. ‘And ohhh… their lust.’
“Leave me out of your sick schemes, you demented creep! Isn’t there some psychopath you’d rather haunt?” I can feel its smile, gloating that it’s in my head, and I can’t do anything about it.
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth hurt. This thing marked me and then molested me last night. This has got to end right here—right now. “No! You aren’t in control. I have free will and I don’t accept you in my life. Get lost, cretin!”
The light changes and I cross, heading for Mike’s office. I’ve got to stop thinking about this entity. The only thing I’m accomplishing is giving it credibility and power over me. Not to mention the fact that it’s creeping the hell out of me at the same time. It probably likes that, feeding off my fear like a bloodsucker.
Yeah. Talking to Mike and trying my best to act normal is my best move right now. There might be another case he’s got lined up that will take my mind off my situation, at least for a while. It’s not true, that old saying that if you laid your troubles out on a table along with everyone else’s problems and had to choose from the pile, you’d pick your own in a heartbeat. Not me. I’d even take that lawyer’s predicament over this entity that’s latched on to me.
When my cell phone buzzes again, I sigh. I know it’s Amy. She’s worried and not answering her will add to that. I pull it from my pocket and read.
What’s up? How come you never texted back? Are you okay?
My thumb flies over the keyboard.
Just busy is all. I’ve been doing this detective gig. TTYL.
I pocket the phone and go down to Mike’s hole-in-the-wall office. He’s just setting his phone down on the desk when I enter. From the strained tightness in his lips, whatever that call was about wasn’t good. “Hey Mike. What’s up?”
“I could ask you the same thing. What the hell happened to you last night? Just when it looks like your luck changes, you tear out of the bar like your ass is on fire.” He pulls himself up from the leather chair and walks over to the coffeemaker. As he pours he glances over. “Coffee?”
“Sure.” I take a seat in the chair across from him. “Something came up that I had to deal with.” It’s not a lie, but he doesn’t need to know the whole story either. There’s no doubt in my mind, ’he’ll think I am losing my mind. Maybe I am.
As he hands me a mug of black coffee, he snorts. “Must have been something real important to leave in such a hurry.”
He thinks I chickened out at the last minute. It’s there in the skepticism in his eyes as well as his thoughts. He’s right that I bolted, but not for the reason he projects.
“So have you decided what to do about the lawyer and Sheila? That was who you were talking to when I came in?” I take a sip of the bitter drink and grimace. It tastes like it was brewed yesterday.
Easing his girth down into the chair, Mike’s eyebrows raise almost to his hairline. “Actually, ’I’ve made up my mind to keep it from her. Why put her through it when obviously it’s been fine for the past few years? If he was gonna leave her, he would have done that already. Not everyone’s life fits the cookie cutter. Who am I to pass judgment?”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” I’ already pick up on what he is about to say, but I let him finish.
“The thing is, her husband came clean with everything last night.” He runs his hand through his scalp, and there’s a rueful smile on his face. “It’s funny. People can still surprise me sometimes. Anthony couldn’t live with the guilt. But the shocker was her reaction.” He shakes his head. “After she got over the hurt, she wanted to meet them—the kids. They think Anthony’s their godfather and now she wants to be their godmother.”
Mike sits back and clasps his hands together over his paunch, his smile spreading, “And if you can believe this—she was hurt he kept this secret from her. It put a wedge between them. She regrets being shut out and not seeing his kids grow.”
Whoa. “That’s a special kind of woman in my books. If my father did this to my mother, she’d kill him.” I picture my no-nonsense mother. On second thought, she’d castrate him before she killed him. My father would never dream of cheating on her. They might not be overly affectionate but there was a deep love and respect there.
‘Besides, she had Seth and Amy. No need for the old man to sow any more wild seeds.’ I jerk forward, slopping some of the hot coffee on my lap. Shit! That voice in my head... It’s’ back!
“You okay, Adam?” Mike peers at me and then grabs some tissues from the box on his desk, tossing them over to sop up the wetness. “You look like you got a sudden cramp or something.”
“No... no, I’m fine.” I dab my jeans and then set the mug on his desk. “Look, I’m glad that it worked out for her, y’know. But I actually stopped in to see if there was any more work you wanted me to do.” Anything that snags my attention so that the voice can’t get through would be great.
“Well...” He looks down at his desk, his fingers fiddling with a pen.
He’s embarrassed? Hell, I’ll take whatever job he’s got lined up. I’ve got to stay busy, get my mind on other things besides this horrible thing I encountered yesterday. I hate the fact that I fell into its twisted spell last night and the fact that it’s still tracking me. I have to be stronger than it is. And if that means working harder, I’m all over that one.
“Come on. Out with it.” But even before he speaks I know what he’s about to say. I can see why he’s reluctant to take this case on. “A lost dog? Seriously?”
His head jerks up and he sputters, “Not just any dog, Adam. Chauncy is an English bulldog, a pedigree with a family tree that would put the royal family to shame. He’s worth ten thousand bucks.”
“Who would pay that kind of money for a mutt? Especially a dog that butt ugly.” With all the wrinkles and jowls bulldogs are so homely they’re actually kind of cute. Amy would love him to death.
“The owner is willing to pay us three thousand smackeroos to get him back. She’s beside herself about losing him. She let him out first thing this morning so he could do his business. When she called him, fifteen minutes later, he was gone. The yard is completely fenced, so someone had to have snatched him.”
“Do you think there’ll be a ransom note?” Even though it really isn’t all that funny I can’t stop the chuckle, picturing a dark alley, the dog being exchanged for a briefcase full of unmarked bills.
“Look, do you want to help me out or not? I figure if you touch something that was close to Chauncy, like his bed or leash you might pick up on where he is.” Mike sits back, folding his arms over his chest.
“I see. I’m your psychic bloodhound. Pretty fitting in this case.” It’s kind of fun giving him a hard time, watching him squirm a bit. This is quite a come down from when he’d been a police detective.
“Something like that.” He scowls, pulling himself up from the chair. “Let’s take a run over to the lady’s house. We can be in and out of there in half an hour.” He leads the way out of the office, setting the
lock on the door behind him.
“I have to be at the delivery job at one. Think you can drop me off there when we finish the great dognapping heist?”
“Keep it up with the smart mouth, and you’ll talk yourself right out of this job, kid.” He stops next to a vintage caddy and throws me a final warning scowl before getting in.
On the drive to the outskirts of the town, Mike’s pretty quiet. It might be time to ease up with the teasing so I offer up a bone. “My sister Amy always brings stray mongrels home. There were times when it was like living in an animal shelter. Not that I minded. All kidding aside, I actually like dogs. I can understand this woman being busted up about losing her mutt.”
He looks over at me. “Your sister sounds nice. Is she like you? I mean with this psychic radar thing?”
“No. But she’s the kindest girl you’ll ever meet. I miss her a lot.” It’s tempting to get my phone out and send her a text but I’ll wait till later. I’ll take a pic of me and the ten-thousand-dollar dog and send it. She’ll like that.
“Where are your folks? I mean what happened that you left home?” His glance is nonchalant but I know he’s listening carefully.
“They’re back in Buffalo. I got tired of the constant nagging. I’ve got an older brother Seth, who shits gold, and Amy... well, she’s pretty well perfect too. I never really fit in with them nor anything else for that matter.”
Haunted By The Succubus Page 5